


Inheritance

by ForensicSpider98



Series: Love After the Fact [49]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, All this stress is bad for the baby, Altean Adam (Voltron), Altean Prince Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Balmeran Hunk (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Galra Shiro (Voltron), Galran Prince Keith (Voltron), Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Olkari Pidge | Katie Holt, Post-War, it's keith. keith is the baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForensicSpider98/pseuds/ForensicSpider98
Summary: Lance is compelled to speak to his father.*whispers* Be sure to check the notes below!
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Alfor/Coran (Voltron), Allura/Lotor/Romelle (Voltron), Haggar/Zarkon (Voltron), Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Love After the Fact [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635043
Comments: 78
Kudos: 201





	Inheritance

It starts toward the end of winter, but still early. Keith knows he’s in trouble the moment he wakes. There’s a slight, aching pain in his legs, specifically at his hips and his knees. That’s where it always begins: in his femurs. Then it travels down his legs and up his back. This time, the pain will be most prominent in his hips and shoulders. Or so he’s been told.

He should tell Lance. Immediately. But… Keith smiles, feeling, hearing the gentle beat of Lance's heart beneath his cheek, the arm he has wrapped around his spouse’s middle. His tail is twisted around Lance’s leg, binding them together. One of Lance’s hands rests on the arm thrown over his middle, the other still at Keith’s back, tangled in his long, loose hair. Lance's own hair fans over the pillows, and every breath is soft with sleep.

The pain can wait, and either way, he’s still quite sleepy… Besides, it would be wrong of him to wake Lance. Right? Right. Keith settles back in with a sigh.

...

Lance notices almost immediately once they actually do get out of bed, and he watches Keith go about his morning. He’s moving stiffly, like he’s in pain. “You’re starting your growth spurt, aren’t you?”

“Not exactly. I’ll begin my growth spurt in about a movement. But it starts hurting now... It’s a bit earlier than I expected.”

Lance holds out a hand, taking Keith’s and pulling him down beside him on the bed. Slipping the comb from Keith’s hand, Lance gets to work on his hair, starting at the ends, taking his time to get out all the tangles. “Are you scared?”

“A little,” Keith whispers, pushing a lock of thick, dark hair over his shoulder. “Lance?”

“Hm?” Lance runs fingers through Keith’s hair, coaxing a bit of quintessence into the strands to keep it healthy.

“Just- Be there if I need you?” That’s not what Keith wanted to say, but Lance lets it be what it is. He gives the answer he’d give any request Keith has for him.

“Always.” Lance gently braids a ribbon into Keith’s hair, ties a knot in the end. He hooks his chin over Keith’s shoulder, wraps his arms around him. “We should take you to Daibazaal. You’ll be more comfortable there, and they can help you better than we can.”

“How will we get there?”

“In a shuttle.”

“And how do we get a shuttle?”

“I need to speak to my father.” Lance rises, slips behind a room divider to change. It’s more efficient than slipping into a bathroom has been. “Will you be alright on your own for a few doboshes... or vargas, depending on Alfor’s mood?”

Keith nods, fingers anxiously tugging at the end of his braid. “I’m not in any immediate difficulty. I’ll go find Adam. Perhaps he has something I can help with. And maybe some painkillers?”

“Oh, definitely. And I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you, regardless. Be sure to talk shit about Shiro. He loves a good bit of gossip, believe it or not. And, hey.” Lance kisses Keith’s temple, his cheek, his lips. “If you need me, or if you want me, you call me. I’ll come.”

“I know. And I’ll do the same. Just call.” Keith returns Lance’s kiss with a smile.

“I’ll see you soon.” One last kiss, and Lance scurries off to his father’s study, where Alfor always is just after breakfast. He himself missed breakfast so Keith could sleep. The normally early riser has been quite sleepy the past movement or so. He sends a quick message to Adam to make sure Keith gets a good meal. A ping of acknowledgement from his attendant, and Lance marches into the study.

Alfor is sitting at his desk, surrounded by a series of tablets, with a holotable in one corner. It's a surprisingly small room. Lance assumes Alfor likes it because no one would think to look here unless they already knew where he was.

“Good morning, Lancel.” Alfor scrolls through a tablet.

“Keith has begun his growth spurt.” Lance waits for a response. Alfor makes a note in his datapad.

“Excellent. I may yet have two married children before I die of old age.” The king doesn’t look up from his tablet.

“I wish to take him to Daibazaal. He-”

“Out of the question, Lancel.” Couldn’t Alfor at least _look_ at him? Even just once?

Lance squares his shoulders, presses on. “He will be more comfortable there, and they will be better able to treat his condition. We cannot risk complications-”

“My answer is still no. He will just have to endure-”

“He will not!” Lance declares. 

Alfor finally looks up, frowning. “Yes, Lancel, he will. Two phoebs ago, you were nearly assassinated. You expect me to hand you over to the Galra, serve you up to them on a silver platter? Risk the future of Altea for something as trivial as pain? Absolutely not-”

“LIKE YOU EVER CARED ABOUT ALTEA!!!” Fingers curling, Lance glares at his father, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement. “And what about my pain?! And Keith’s pain?! When does that get to matter?”

Alfor flies to his feet, eyes flashing. “Your pain does _not_ matter! You want to talk about pain?! I have killed men, women, and children for Altea! Slaughtered villages for Altea! Sacrificed my best friend for Altea! Bartered my _children_ for Altea-”

“Built a secret war room for Altea,” Lance snaps.

“Contingencies, Lancel! I do what must be done! You-”

“Did you even know about the King’s Road being damaged? A headman came a decaphoeb ago seeking it’s repairs, and you did fuck all to-”

“I signed off on that request myself, and instructed the builders to leave behind any excess materials for the commune to use as suited them! As is protocol!”

“Then why-”

“Sometimes, court orders are lost, Lancel! If I might ask _you_ a question, why do you assume I simply did not care? _Why_ do you assume I do not care about Altea?”

Lance’s eyes find the floor. There’s so much here, so much distrust and disdain, that it’s better just to retreat. “Forgive me, Father. I have disrespected you.”

“I don’t care about your disrespect, Lancel.” The king stares at his son, quite suddenly old, tired. “But do you truly think so little of me?”

Eyes stinging, perhaps from shame, or embarrassment, or perhaps some son’s grief, Lance turns away from his father, away from the heaviness of Alfor’s voice. After a long stretch of silence, he forces the word past his lips. 

“Sometimes.” The first tear falls. Lance brushes it away, saltwater skittering over his scales.

“Lancel-”

“I’m sorry. I’ll-” Lance turns to go, but Alfor wraps fingers around his arm. His breath catches in his throat, waiting for that hand or that voice to strike him.

“Lancel...”

Alfor gently coaxes his son to turn, brushes his thumbs over those glittering blue scales. It’s affection so unexpected that Lance can’t quite choke back a sob. “My son... My boy. I’ve lost you. Please don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“I’m _sorry_ .” He’s unsure _why_ he’s sorry, exactly, but Lance must have done _something_ somewhere along to line. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be like this.

“No, Lance. Not this time.” The king runs a hand through his son’s hair, sending it askew. Lance swipes at his face.

“I’m trying. I’m _trying_ . It was a trick. The whole thing with the girls and the boys and the- all of it! I swear it was! I wanted- I wanted to seem more impressive.” Lance swipes at his face, trying to stop his tears as he rambles. “But then I had to give it up and now I’ve lost my one shot at gaining respect before I even had any to gain but I still have all this stuff I have to do and- and I’m _sorry!_ ”

“No, I meant it’s not for you to apologize this time. It’s mine. I’m so sorry.” The king brushes a lock of hair away from Lance’s face. The boy stares listlessly at the floor.

“Lance. Lance, look at me.” Shining blue and pink eyes stare up into his, and Alfor smiles. “Never, under any circumstances ever, should you find yourself in an interrogation. Once you start you just keep going.”

The boy chokes on his laughter, nods. “I do. I always do. Keith says I babble when I’m upset, but I tell him he’s full of it. Ancients, it must have been so annoying on our wedding night, me prattling on about circlets and gardens and I’m-”

“‘-Doing it again’. Yes you are.” Alfor pulls his son into a hug. “Dear son, why do you want to go to Daibazaal so badly?”

“I promised. Phoebs ago. I promised I’d take him home. He- He misses it so much and- and I don’t know what to do for him right now.”

“Is it worth it to you?” Alfor whispers, rubbing his son’s back. “Have you calculated this risk?”

“I have. It is.” Lance curls his fingers into his father's cloak, soaking in that unfamiliar, desperately missed heat. “We’ll be staying with Shiro or Krolia, or within the Imperial compound. We’ll be working to hopefully gain favor or at least minimize animosity with the locals while we’re there. My combat skills have improved and-”

“You’re a good shot. Don’t think I didn’t notice.” Alfor inspects his son. “You really are good at this, aren’t you?”

“I’m trying to be. Keith’s gotten better and he’s become an _enormous_ help. He’s so _smart_ and _talented_ and he’s _funny_ and he makes it all way easier than it could be…” 

Alfor watches, solemn, as his son retreats again, closes himself off. He sighs. “Lancel?”

“Yes?”

“Your presence here is invaluable. You’re aware of this?”

“Yes.” Calm. Assured. Except for a sniffle, Lance is perfectly composed when he gives that answer. 

“ _You_ are invaluable. You’re aware of this also?”

“I- Yes.” Almost, then just as assured.

“I need you to do something for Altea if you go on this... excursion.”

“What do you want me to do?” He didn’t say ‘anything’. This, Alfor knows from experience, is a good thing. It means his son might live a longer life, and one where he will not be used.

“I want you to come back from Daibazaal _married_ . No more stalling. On the off chance that anyone knows the truth, you must come back to Altea having bedded that boy. He doesn’t have to be pregnant, but I- _we_ need you two married.”

Lance bites his lip, takes a composing breath. “One phoeb. You’ll have your official marriage in _approximately_ one phoeb… The moment we go to Daibazaal, word is going to spread beyond the compound, and the people will know Keith is only just growing into adulthood. Not having mated with him is my first step to gaining the peoples’ trust. Assuming they don’t try to kill me first. Once we have the peoples’ trust, we have an actual alliance. One the citizens recognize.”

“Use Keith to gain favor with the locals-”

“If by ‘use’ you mean ‘go to for advice’, then I already plan to do that… You still think like a soldier.”

“I know.” Alfor smiles, rueful. “It’s the only way I know how to think.” Alfor sighs. “Fine. If you think it in Altea’s best interests, go to Daibazaal. But do please be careful, son. Stay safe… I love you.”

“I-” Lance swallows. “I know. I love you too.”

“One of those statements is a lie.” The king smiles at the affronted expression on his son’s face. “We’ll work on it. You’ll be lying like your old man in no time… Or perhaps better.” Alfor’s smile fades, worry taking its place. “Please come home, Lance. I- We need you.”

“I will.” In the absence of his father’s smile, Lance manages to find one. “I promise.”

“I’ll leave it all to you then. As I should have done already.”

Lance meets his father’s eyes, nods in understanding. “I’ll make all the arrangements. Adam and Pidge will accompany us. Coran will handle court in my stead, with assistance from Lanval and Hunk. New legislation will be ready by Spring, as always. Nothing will be neglected.”

“As you say, Prince Lancel. The kingdom defers to you.” Alfor sighs. “And, for the record, the war room really is for contingencies. You and Keith can look when we get back. Also, you’re going to have to rehire Pidge after I fire them for treason. I’m assuming they’re the one who found my room in the first place.”

“If my efforts prevail, we’ll have no use for your contingencies, but still I will see what you’ve come up with. In the meantime, I’d best prepare for our departure and tell Pidge to ignore you.”

“I expect to hear from you while you are there, understand? Coran will never let you leave the castle again if you don't.” 

“I understand. I need to speak to my team and make the necessary arrangements for our departure. Excuse me.” The young prince bows, smiling thinly at his father, before hurrying from the room.

Alfor stares at his grown up son. When the quiznak did that happen? Yesterday? A phoeb ago? When he married? It doesn’t really matter. It happened, and Alfor missed it.

He promises his son’s retreating back that he won’t miss anything else.

Keith wakes from dozing on the couch when Lance stumbles in. “Hey. Adam sent me here to sleep- Woah, hey.”

Lance sits down next to his spouse, sighs. “So… My father and I got into it. Well, as much as we can get into it, given that talking to each other is our least favorite thing to do.”

“What happened?” Keith hesitates, takes Lance’s hand, grips it tight. He knows he made the right choice when Lance rests his head on his shoulder.

“Well, he said our pain didn’t matter, I think. And then we yelled about how much our lives suck, like shitty royals do, and then… I’m not sure. I think he kind of handed over authority to me?”

“Well that’s… good, right? About him deferring to you? That’s what Altea needs.”

“I don’t know! I just-” Lance takes a deep breath, and Keith slips a hand up to thread fingers in his white hair. “He told me he loved me. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since he told me that?”

Keith shakes his head, teasing a lock of Lance’s hair, anxious for his spouse.

“It’s been decaphoebs.” It comes out like a trembling leaf, like the slightest disturbance could tear each word apart like the thinnest paper. The Crown Prince of Altea draws away, studying their joined hands. “He hasn’t told me he loved me since my tenth birthday, when he gifted me a sword as a present, and promised I would shed Galra blood by my next centaphoeb.”

“Well, there’s time yet. He might still be right.” Keith smiles as Lance laughs, a little wet, very bitter. It’s not always hard, this thing they’re creating. It comes easier and easier as time goes on. “Do you believe him?”

“Not then. Maybe now. He’s a hard man for me to understand. Either way, this is my decision to make. My risk to take, if I so choose.”

Keith licks his lip, regards his spouse carefully. “And?”

“And I'm thinking instead of a short visit like we planned, we'll stay for a phoeb or two-” Lance’s words are cut off with a gasp as Keith throws his arms around him, presses their lips together. After a moment, Lance pulls back, that eyebrow cocked for mischief. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Yes,” Keith breathes. “Yes!” Their lips collide again, deeper this time, more tender.

“Did you doubt me all this time?” Lance mumbles, breaking their kiss to slip his quintessence under Keith’s skin. He investigates Keith’s condition, finds spots of inflammation and does what little he can to soothe them. 

His alchemy has been improving.

“Truthfully? A little.” They sit there a moment, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, some unspoken thing welling from their hearts, not ready to be put out in the open. “When can we leave?”

“Can you wait until tomorrow? I have to make some arrangements and inform Lotor that we’re coming.”

“You mean request to visit?”

“I said what I said.” Brief laughter, and Lance settles back against the couch.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Keith whispers, still holding his spouse against his side. It's nice, being able to give back a little of what Lance has given him.

“Not at all. But I’m sure that I will be. After all, I won't be doing it alone.”

Lance leans up, kisses his ear. He settles against Keith, rests his head against his chest, and Keith brushes aside the slightened but still present ache in his legs in favor of a quiet moment before the rush of preparation begins. After all, once Lance sets foot on Daibazaal, he’s sure to do nothing but chatter for the better part of a quintant.

But whatever. Keith wouldn’t want him any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Next time on Love After the Fact: Keith and Lance arrive on Daibazaal! What happens while they're there? Up to you! Tell me what you want to see below!


End file.
